Mancheon Questions His Master (7)

Autumn passed, and winter arrived. I'd successfully mastered the Empty Brightness Fist. Since it was a Daoist martial art to begin with, it meshed perfectly with the Quanzhen Orthodox Inner Cultivation Method I'd learned, letting me pick it up quickly.

The problem was that I still hadn't pulled off the Golden Goose Skill. It wasn't that I failed to learn it—I just hadn't executed it perfectly yet. In terms of progress, I was already at about 99 percent. Once I ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠filled in that last 1 percent, I could unleash it anytime.

'As expected, sending the staff out first before my left foot is the way to go.'

Like doing the pole vault, I plant the staff, thrust my body forward, channel inner energy into my left foot to kick off the ground, then extend the staff again... repeating the process.

Sip~ No. Still, to efficiently draw out the staff's power when it touches the ground, I need a running start. Maybe leading with the left foot after all?

While I chewed on jerky in my room, ignoring my studies and running brain simulations on how to perfectly deploy the Golden Goose Skill, my brother knocked on the door.

Sima Rang, the eldest son of the Sima family. My brother, eight years my senior. Our relationship was neither particularly close nor hostile—just cordial and distant. He's always loved studying since he was young, spending all day flipping through scriptures and books in his room. Aside from mealtimes, we rarely crossed paths.

One peculiar thing: his skin was so pale it bordered on ghostly, and he had a gentle personality. Even with my reincarnator trait, I was such a genius that people compared him to me without meaning to. Yet he'd never said a harsh word to me.

"Father's acquaintance has come to visit. Come along and pay your respects."

"Ah... Yes! I'll head out right now."

I grabbed my staff and followed him to the parlor, matching his stride. Suddenly, he spoke to me.

"Your leg seems much better these days. I'm glad."

"Yeah. Well, it's all thanks to you, Mother, and Father looking out for me."

My martial arts training was a secret from the family. It wouldn't be a big deal if they knew, but it'd force me to explain about my master too, so I kept it hidden. Saying it out loud now, though, made me realize it was a problem after all. For some reason, Master was hiding his identity. Probably tied to his habit of collecting all those martial arts.

That benevolent master of mine—surely he hadn't committed some crime to need hiding.

"We've received word that the Murim Public Enemy is hiding in this village."

The unfamiliar man's ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠voice from outside the parlor froze my body. My brother, uninterested in the conversation, stayed outside to avoid disturbing Father and the guest, bowing his head and waiting for it to end.

But I couldn't just let those words slide. I channeled my inner energy to sharpen my hearing to the max, focusing on their talk.

"He crushed Huashan single-handedly and stole the Twenty-Four Plum Blossom Sword Technique. He snatched the Emperor Sword Form from Nangong's Sword Dragon. Even the Sapai's Yang Clan fell to him, losing their secret art, the Yang Family Six Harmonies Palm."

"What...? A monster like that is in our village?"

"Just a rumor, mind you. But since you live here, I got worried and came by."

"Good thing I have friends like you. But what kind of guy pulls off stuff like that?"

"No idea. All that's known is he's an ugly old man eight chi tall. If only Shaolin's great master—who actually spoke to him privately—would say something, but he's in secluded training and won't talk."

"Hmm~ Eight chi tall... No one that huge in the village comes to mind."

"If you spot him, don't get close. I still can't forget the sight of Hebei Peng Clan's patriarch—built like a mountain—writhing like a bug, begging that guy for his life."

"What...? You saw him yourself and you're still alive? Am I talking to a ghost?"

"...He doesn't actually kill people, despite stealing sects' arts. But if you challenge him cluelessly, you'll end up half-crippled. Truly bizarre fellow."

Eight chi tall, ugly old man. That was Master.

Now it all made sense. Hiding his identity, hoarding all those martial arts—everything clicked.

...I figured he wasn't ordinary, but the Murim Public Enemy? No way.

Even ignorant as I'd been about the Murim world, learning martial arts had sparked my interest. Jang Sambung had filled me in on plenty of stories, so I knew what a Public Enemy was. In Romance of the Three Kingdoms terms, like Dong Zhuo. An enemy so wicked and powerful he made all the self-interested factions stop backstabbing each other. The common foe.

My mind went blank. I vaguely greeted Father's acquaintance—the Murim Alliance's Flying Dragon Squad Vice Captain, Jegal Biyeong—and returned to my room.

...My master is the Murim Public Enemy. Now what?

An owl hooted—no, maybe a barn owl, but whatever. It wasn't important. Late at night, when most folks were asleep, I slipped out past the servants' eyes and stood alone in the back yard, staring up at the towering wall like a kid.

With rumors of the Public Enemy in town, Father had ordered the servants to lock everything tight. My usual back door was out. I could ask Jang Sambung to sneak it open, but if anyone saw, it wouldn't be sneaky anymore. It might even expose Master's location.

In the end, I had to vault this wall. But could I do it?

A cripple who can't even run, flying like a goose? What a troll of a master. And an amazing one.

Even without me saying anything about the Murim Alliance visitor, Master would bolt on his own. So why was I standing here in the chilly winter night breeze, gauging the wall's height and prepping the Golden Goose Skill all forlorn-like?

I sighed, loosened my ankles, and gripped my staff tight.

He'd taught me so much. Least I could do was see him off properly.

I stared at the wall. Then tilted my head up to the sky.

Right—what goose takes off staring at a wall? What I needed to see was the sky, higher than any wall.

I can't remember if the staff went first or my left foot. Maybe both at once. Doesn't matter now if it was foot or staff first. I've lived with this staff since I took my first steps.

Master was right. The staff is my arm, my leg.

My left foot hit the wall first. I kicked off and soared.

But I fell short. I planted the staff on the wall. Soared again.

Repeating the process. Inner energy drained from my body as cool, crisp wind enveloped me.

...I came to and looked back. There was the wall—the same one that'd been right in front of me moments ago. Only difference: I was inside before, outside now.

I'd cleared the wall. Flown through the sky.

The bitter memories of all those failures mixed with the thrill of success, sending electric shivers up my spine.

I held back a whoop, then dashed off with the Golden Goose Skill to brag to Master.

Oddly, once it clicked the first time, everything after was a breeze.

Entering the ruined house, I saw Master as usual. But the ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠atmosphere was off. His burning eyes, filled with fury, glared at me.

"I know a Murim Alliance man visited your home. For you to come here so late, you must've learned my identity from him."

His presence overwhelmed me; my body wouldn't budge.

"You've heard I'm the Murim Public Enemy. So why seek me out? Don't think you can weasel out with something like 'Don't expect logic from a kid's whims' this time."

As his words ended, sensation returned to my throat and head. Paralyzing someone with sheer presence alone—is that a martial art too?

If I had time, I'd beg him to teach me that. Such a shame.

But why was he this pissed?

Imagining Master angry made my knees weak, but knowing this was the end, I stood tall instead.

"As your disciple, I respect you, Master. But don't try bossing me around on what I think is right."

My impudent words made his eyes widen.

"So what if the Murim Alliance branded you the Public Enemy? I was shocked, sure, but it's got nothing to do with me."

I gathered every scrap of inner energy in my body, pushing back against the oppressive aura. Pointless resistance, really—just showing I wouldn't cower.

"From watching you up close, Master, you're no great villain worthy of that title. You're just a weirdo who loves learning and teaching stuff."

Suddenly, the crushing pressure vanished. The fury left his eyes.

"I came because I thought it was right."

His massive frame shook. He looked to the sky, letting out a quiet laugh of joy, then turned to me with his usual kindly smile.

"Acting on what you believe is right... Nothing left to teach you. Walk with me a bit?"

"...Yes."

I sensed intuitively this was our last talk.

No ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠dog barked. No owl hooted. On the moonless night streets, where clouds hid the sky, only our footsteps and voices echoed.

"Where are you headed?"

"Who knows. Far away, probably. Might head to the North Sea Ice Palace for their famed Ice White Divine Palm. Or sail west."

As we chatted, we neared the village exit.

Something white caught my eye. Looking up, snow was falling from the sky.

"Time to part."

"Yes. Thank you for everything."

We'd said enough. Without lingering, Master turned, braving the swirling snow as he walked away. His silent stride exuded a noble air.

"...Tell me your name."

I hadn't realized it, but I guess I'm the clingy type at goodbyes. At my pointless addendum, Master glanced between sky and earth, then slightly turned his head toward me.

"I never gave my name because when I chose my path in life, I discarded it."

In the quiet night, with his usual kindly, resolute voice, Master answered my final question.

"So if you wish to remember me, think of me as the son of the Kong Clan. Remember me as Kongzi."

The wind blew. Snow swirled. I was speechless.

Just as he'd appeared before me out of nowhere at first, Master vanished into the flurry, gone in an instant.

Braving the snow alone on the way home, past midnight. I turned eleven.